


deadly nightshade

by Anonymous



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: BDSM, Character Study, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, M/M, Masochism, Mild Sexual Content, Purple Prose, read the beginning notes for warnings and etc, this isnt too fucked up but ik some people would rather avoid works like thse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 05:56:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17954873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: most say love is the purest of emotions. that it's an angelic, heavenly thing, a feeling of beauty that clings to your chest, something that makes a choir of angels sing every time you see that one special person. korekiyo disagrees with that - sometimes, love can be the most disgusting, vile thing, the unhealthiest of fascinations, and to him, all of that is so much more beautiful.





	deadly nightshade

**Author's Note:**

> so basically. this is a fic about saihara being into some fucked up stuff. and korekiyo loving it Way too much and thinking about it as he cuddles saihara. cw for mentions of hardcore bdsm shit like knifeplay and choking and death threats, i guess.  
> if you can get past this shit and enjoy extra descriptions youll probably like this lol

Saihara is really warm — That’s what Korekiyo notes, gently holding the smaller boy closer to him.

The sleepy detective, with Korekiyo’s arms wrapped around him, looked so small, so vulnerable. His eyes fluttered shut, barely flushed face framed by locks of hair that insisted on covering parts of it. His thin body all curled up, like a cat that was napping — He was so _cute._

Korekiyo couldn’t help but smile. Saihara was so easy, especially for such a shy, reserved person. In the beginning, he actually didn’t expect him to be so…submissive. He had seen flashes of a more assertive Saihara, after all, especially during debates where his usually soft and nonthreatening voice would turn fiery, and his words were thoroughly sharpened into blades that cut through his opponents arguments. How practiced he would always be, seeming to be come an entirely new person when confronted with specific subjects. Korekiyo initially became drawn to Saihara because of his meekness, but the fire inside him, too, was beautiful.

It turned out that the detective was exactly what he seemed to be, though. Needy, shy, and mostly very obedient. Though he did surprise the anthropologist with how vulgar he could get, but that was no problem. Far from it, actually — Korekiyo loved the whorish Saihara all the same, and while this streak of his sometimes came out of nowhere, he did enjoy the surprise element.

As much as he enjoyed toying with him until his composure utterly shattered and his shamelessly slutty side came crawling out, Korekiyo must say his favorite moments were the more tender ones.

When he had him on his embrace, completely open and vulnerable and submitting to him in a wordless, silent way, that was when Korekiyo got the most excited. Bathing in his warmth, petting his hair in gentle strokes, feeling how he melted against his chest, almost like he wished for Korekiyo to have him. To do anything he wants, to owe him.

This was one of this moments. Saihara was curled up to him, sitting inbetween his legs and leaning on his chest, sweetly. Korekiyo’s hands were wrapped around his thin waist, though he was thinking about letting them wander to his thighs now.

Truly, Saihara let out the sweetest, most adorable noises. The strings of sighs that evolved into brief whimpers, that became soft, yet so passionate moans. How he would bite into his own fingers, face all red and steaming, and quietly squirm on Korekiyo’s grip. It was truly beautiful, the mix of his embarrassment and arousal that melded into each other.

And he was so, so sensitive. Early on, Korekiyo though it was merely because he was deprived of physical affection, but even as time went on, Saihara was still so _easy._ The slightest of touches could turn him into a blushing, drooling mess, and god, how he loved it. What an adorable little slut.

Not to mention how much he liked pain, too. That was another thing Korekiyo would never have expected, but every time he striked Saihara in any way, his reaction was truly the purest form of delight. Shudders, lip biting, honest to god keening that would sometimes even be followed up by pleas, by him asking for more. So beautiful, so wonderful, so disguting.

Every single thing about him was just plainly perfect, and vile at the same time. That was the only words Korekiyo could use to describe the alluring beauty that was Shuuichi Saihara.

Perfect, a combination of sweetness and delicateness and sharpness all at once, that seemed to blend so well, like a mixture of herbs and fruits and flowers that was brewed into the simplest, yet most heavenly of teas. A taste that was like no other, that reminded him of precious, long forgotten feelings. Tender, soft, beautiful, beautiful, _beautiful._

But also so vile. It was subtle, of course, like a brief flash of sourness in the very middle of that mellow tea’s taste, but once Korekiyo noticed it, he couldn’t get enough of it. As kind and angelic as he was, there was just something so _morbid,_ so _repulsive_ about him. He could see it in his eyes, that shard of emptiness, a way of seeing the world that not even himself, as thoughtful as he was, had ever considered. Something terrible, truly rotten existed at the roots of Saihara’s being.

He could catch glimpses of it when they were alone, and he would strike him with the paddle until his skin was red and burning and he was crying and drooling but screaming for more. It was so, so gross, how much he loved it. How much Saihara seemed to adore his own suffering, how much it seemed to knock the thoughts out of his mind and turn him into something filthy. Korekiyo couldn’t wrap his head around it, he had met so many masochists, but they all had a spark of _something_ that he could detect as a need for limitations.

A sense of self-preservation, a longing to enjoy the pain, but still maintain their integrity. Some of them spoke longingly of a desire for death, but Korekiyo knew, he just knew, that none of the genuinely wanted it. It was nothing but the danger that happened to turn them on.

Saihara, however, had none of this. The pain could get worse, and worse, and worse, and he’d still beg for more. He’d still twitch and squirm and drool and moan. Korekiyo would sometimes spew out lines filled with threats to his life, press blades against his neck and talk about how much he would love to plunge it into his skin, and Saihara still loved it.

Korekiyo would never forget the day when his hands were around his neck, squeezing thightly, and he was buried deep into a fully tied up Saihara, pounding over and over and over again. Lost in the moment, his voice dropped and sneered at the detective about how easy he could kill him in the spot, about how he was such a filthy whore for not resisting at all.

And Saihara came undone before his very eyes, making a mess out of himself in an ecstatic scream. Just the threat seemed to push him over the edge, to make the heat inside him snap and set his entire body on fire.

It was _disgusting._ Korekiyo loved it.

Yet now he laid in his arms so innocently, sleepily mumbling and purring when a hand goes through his soft hair. So cute, so pure.

He truly was something else, a nuanced type of beauty he had never stumbled upon. A diamond in the rough. He could skim through every dictionary, and Korekiyo would never find the right words to describe his feelings towards Shuuichi Saihara.

All that he could say was that he was beautiful. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.


End file.
